Fall

Childhood is a lot of memories, the good and the bad. I don’t have regrets though. Sometimes I try to forget the moments of being silly and naughty. Sometimes too, the memory chooses the strongest happiest and unhappy moments. I have a strong reminiscence on those times I go to the ricefields with my grandparents or with my parents alone. At those times, ricefields means to me as work and play, work and play. Some of those happy recollections are the days I enjoyed swimming in the mud with my cousin during our planting season, making balls from the soil and throwing with each other with my brother and sister. Our parents and older ones excuse us from these silly games as they continue the work being done. Sometimes though we are told to guard the cooking at the “Fiangaan” or the cooking area in the ricefield’ corner but we ran to the river and have a cold swim instead. There were laughs but there was also pain. Here in this photo I took in 2004, it reminds me when I fall into this site. I was small at probably 5 years old when on our way to Tannud my little feet miss a straight step in the paddy’ side. I fell down the cliffs and I my father came running down to get me. Fortunately the ricefield where I landed is dried and not wet. I cried with no injuries. Now whenever I passed by this area it brings me back to that day.